Here's the Deal.../All Mad Men Live Here (Part 1)
Okay, so I got sick of sporking the Love and Chaos Knows No Bounds, but it's only temporary. So instead I found another terrible stroy to spork. So here it goes....
xXxXx
Fuck.
Just... FUCK.
That doesn't sound good.
This place is so utterly shitty that you would never believe. I don't know why I had even moved into this little, one roomed apartment. It smells of mold, cigars, and oddly enough... gun powder. Who had ever been here before might have been a thug who had an addiction to the over sized cancer sticks. He probably had shot some people too because -as my eyes get used to the hanging light- I faintly see some bullet holes in the wall.
Great.
Now I have to go out and get some spackle to plug those holes up.
What's spackle?
Irritation sets in as I set down one of my three boxes down near the cot placed near the window. Why had I even moved here? Riiight, I wanted to get away from a drunken mother and a father that was going through life at home on a high all of them time. Typical I'd be one of those people with parents like that. And yes, I have tried to get them to stop but all I get a yelling, slap to the face or being called or how stupid I was.
So that brings me here, in this shitty little aparment.
Going down the stairs I get another one of my boxes (I'm surprised no one's stolen them yet)
Me too.
and huff my way back to the fourth floor. I do this for the third one.
I'm stopped in my tracks when I get to my door. Theres a man with black suit pants and a blue button up shirt with an undone tie around his neck. Behind thin wired glasses sharp, cold blue eyes stare at me with an analysing look. He's extremely gorgeous looking too. I mean... he looks like a model!
Oh No! No! No! No!
Cautously I set my box down on the floor and give a nervous smile to him.
"U- Uhm... hello! I'm Amy, it's nice to meet you...?", I then wipe my hands on my jeans. Walking towards him I then hold out my hand.
He gives a sceptical look before he gives me a limp hand shake. Inwardly I feel myself cursing at him. How rude. A limp hand shake!
Oh the audacity.
Thats not cool man...
You're not cool.
"Jonathon," he states simply before opening his own door. "And it's a pleasure..."
Jonathon
It's Dr. Crane to you missy!
then goes inside, shutting his door. In the hallway I'm seething. That had just been rude! Eye twitching lightly
That's attractive.
I then open my own and shove my box in with my feet.
All gorgeous men must be vain...
You would be too if you were tormented all through school for being a nerd!
A short while after my encounter with Jonny boy
Dr. Crane.
I feel hunger grab at my stomach. This in mind I grab my hoodie and walk out of the door... Only to bump into someone. Startled I squeek and fall over. Shaking my head and my (now) hurting arse (in which I am rubbing), I squint and look up.
I am now looking at another man. He is wearing a weird (ugly) purple suit,
It's is not purple! It is violet!
and as I stand up I can see greasy green hair upon his head.
And his hair is not greasy, simply gelled for affect.
His face is the strangest of all though. It's painted into a twisted version of a clown.
He is NOT a clown! What is it with you people!
Under said make- up two, long, jagged smiling scars grace him. Taken back slightly I try and avoid the stare he is giving me.
"Well, well, well, what in the wah- hah- oorld do we have here?", theres a strange amusement in his voice. "A nah- ew -by? Oh ho! And living right next to me too! What fun, fun, fu-un we will have!"
THE JOKER DOES NOT STUTTER OR REPEAT WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I unconsciencely pull the hood of my hoodie over my head. It's pulled off my head the next moment though as I'm pulled right into a your-breaking-my-personal-bubble hug.
He doesn't hug!
Making a noise between a squeel and a gasp, I'm squeezed and cuddled by this mystery man from Cirque de Freak.
Struggling against him, I finally get free while breathing hard.
Now that had been the most awkward moment of my life.
You're face is the most awkward moment of your life...
The Clown- Fuck
HE IS NOT A CLOWN-FUCK! YOU'RE A CLOWN FUCK!
is just grinning at me, and his scar pucker out harshly as he does so. He licks his lips.
"Now- a, I uh, have some Chinese food."
With poison.
Suddenly he's inside of the apartment next to mine. "I happen to ah... huh- ave ordered too mah- uch. Would you care to join me in some sweet and sour chicken?"
Only arsenic filled.
Numbly I find myself walking into a room with tacky, purple walls,
You're a tacky purple wall.
a teal colored couch, a small green coffee table and a huuuge plasma screen TV with a PS3.
Why does he need a PS3 when he blows shit up in realife.
Standing awkwardly at the door I shuffle my feet, while biting my nails. I watch as... Wait. Oh shit. I didn't even get his name!
"H- Hey... I- I don't think I ever g- got your name...," I say as I stay in my place.
He doesn't want your name.
Right now I'm watching him bent over his sink. (I don't remember watching him go to it..) and I faintly hear the water running. Hmm... he must be washing his face (or hair) of his make- up. After a few minutes he stands up and shakes his head and makes a weird noise as he does so. He then starts to strip of his jacket, then his vest, a weird octagon shirt and he's left in a white wife beater.
He wouldn't wear a wife beater.
Throwing them on his bed he then makes his way over to his small couch and opens up the first container of food.
"It's uh...", he takes a bite of the low mein within the box, "Jack, doll face. Now what's yours?"]
His name is JOKER!
"Amy." I take this as a cue to go and sit next to him. He holds up a fork for me.
Grabbing it and another box, I open open and my nose is met with the smell of fried dumplings. Licking my lips slightly I then dig in. Surprisingly enough I remembered that I hadn't gotten to eat anything yet.
Think about the starving kids in Africa. They barely get to eat...ever.
Though feeling nervous and semi- guilty for eating my neighbors food, I scoffed it down.
"So what made you come to a shit place like this?"
The Joker only wants to see the world burn. Nothing more. It can be shit, but it can be roses. All the same to him.
I choke a little on the rice I had just gotten my greedy paws on. Coughing a bit, I hit my chest and set the bland food down. I feel a large, spidery hand on my back thump me harder than I had been and I cough the bits down on my hand.
If he were the real Joker, he would have let you die.
Grabbing a napkin I then wipe my hands.
"Sorry..." I mumble lamely.
Yeah you better be for ruining the Joker's character.
Why did I move?
Because you're a piece of crap.
Well, I told you, the reader but now I think I had to tell some guy who had a weird sense of fashion. Sighing a bit I look over at him lamely.
"Well... I moved to this shit place to get away from another," grinning weakly I then grabbed another box.
Mmmm... beef and broccolli!
Filled with CYANIDE!